


Nothing good happens past 2 am

by S_Horne



Series: Stony September AUs [23]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bookstore Owner Steve Rogers, First Meetings, Helpful Steve Rogers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sort of a meet-ugly?, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: Steve wasn’t a grumpy person by nature, but when his phone rang at 3:45 am the night after he’d been up for 30 hours finishing a window display in his shop that he just couldn’t get right, he was inclined to be a little growly.“Rhodey?” the voice on the other end of the line asked after a slight pause. “You don’t sound like Rhodey.”“What the hell is a Rhodey and how am I meant to sound like one?”The voice gave a slightly strangled laugh. “Rhodey is my best friend. I thought this was his number.”Despite himself, Steve seemed interested in this now and he reached out for the bedside light. “It’s not.”“Clearly.”/Tony rings the wrong number in the middle of the night and maybe it wasn't such a mistake after all





	Nothing good happens past 2 am

**Author's Note:**

> 23\. Wrong number
> 
>  
> 
> (Tony gets mugged and has a bit of a bruise, but he's okay)

“What?”

Steve wasn’t a grumpy person by nature, but when his phone rang at 3:45 am the night after he’d been up for 30 hours finishing a window display in his shop that he just couldn’t get right, he was inclined to be a little growly.

“Rhodey?” the voice on the other end of the line asked after a slight pause. “You don’t sound like Rhodey.”

“What the hell is a Rhodey and how am I meant to sound like one?”

The voice gave a slightly strangled laugh. “Rhodey is my best friend. I thought this was his number.”

Despite himself, Steve seemed interested in this now and he reached out for the bedside light. “It’s not.”

“Clearly.”

Steve chuckled at the sarcasm. “How does this even happen in this day and age?” he asked, rolling over and settling back against his pillows. “You’re meant to save numbers under contacts so that this doesn’t happen.”

There was a beat of silence and Steve’s brow furrowed. “Hello?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and squinted at the too-bright screen to check if it was still connected. “Are you still there?”

“I got mugged.”

The stranger’s words were muffled, but Steve still heard them. He bolted upright in his bed and cursed. “What? Are you okay? What did they take? Did they hurt you?”

“Wow. For a stranger, you seem very concerned.”

Steve flushed a little bit at the cautiously-surprised tone, but remained confident. “I know a thing or two about bullies,” he said, lighter than he felt. “Now, you didn’t answer me. Are you okay?”

There was a sigh and the faint sound of a scuff of a shoe against concrete before an answer. “For the most part. I got a little roughed up, but it’s my pride that hurts the most. I really thought the guy liked me.”

Steve’s face twisted in sympathy and he clicked his tongue. “What did they take?”

There was a humourless laugh. “Everything.”

“Nothing that can’t be replaced though, right?” That’s what his Ma had always said, before he had bulked up and stopped getting picked on. Whenever he came home with a black eye and missing his lunch money, his Ma always cupped his cheek and said it could be replaced.

There was another little huff. “No, I guess not. I didn’t have much dignity to lose anyway. Losing my phone was a bit of a bummer, though. It was a new prototype that I could have done without being stolen, but I can cancel it remotely when I get back to the lab.”

“Oh,” Steve said with interest, “you’re a designer? That’s cool.”

Another pause. An awkward little cough. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. But I found some coins and managed to get this hideously old and disgusting piece of technology to work and here we are.”

“…do you mean a payphone?”

“That’s what they’re called! I couldn’t remember.”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “Wow. Well, where are you?”

“What?”

“Where are you?”

“Why?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Why do you think?” he asked, already rolling out of bed. “I’m coming to get you.”

There was a strangled sort of spluttering sound and Steve startled violently.

“What the hell? Coming to get me?” the voice yelled, “are you nuts? Did you not hear the part about me being mugged? This is New York, you fool.”

Steve rolled his eyes again as he relaxed. “I highly doubt that this was all an elaborate rouse to lure me into danger,” he said, reaching out for a sweater. “I’ll help you find Rhodey’s number or whatever. Give you money for a cab.”

“Oh my God,” the voice was faint, completely awed. “You’re crazy. You don’t even know my name and you’re coming out in the middle of the night to give me taxi money.”

“I’m not coming out if you don’t tell me where you are,” Steve pointed out dryly as he wriggled into sweatpants, “and I’m not crazy.”

He was. He could hear Bucky practically screaming in his head. He was going to get an earful when his brother heard about this. _Stupid hero complex,_ he would shout, _you’re going to get yourself killed one day, you idiot! And then where will we be?_

“Oh my God,” he heard again. “Well, I’m by a bar and a payphone, obviously.”

“Helpful.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” the guy said, “I don’t know this area. Oh, wait. I’m opposite a bookshop. _Sarah’s_ I think it’s called. It’s kinda cute. Do you know it?”

Steve swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know it. It’s less than two minutes away.”

Steve headed over to the window and looked down at the still-brightly lit street. In the phone-booth opposite his apartment block stood a young man with a mop of dark brown hair clutching a phone against his ear.

“I’m Tony, by the way.”

Steve grinned. “Suits you,” he said and laughed when Tony made a confused noise.

“What do you mean it ‘suits me’?”

Steve crossed his apartment and pulled open his front door, letting it fall shut behind him as he ran down the stairs. He crossed the street quickly, sending up a quick ‘thanks’ for the lack of traffic at that time in the morning, and jogged up to the pay-phone and the man huddled close to it.

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it suits me’?” he heard again.

Steve tapped the man on the shoulder and laughed when he jumped a mile. “I mean, it suits you.” When the man turned to him with a look of total shock on his face, Steve hung up and shoved his mobile in his pocket, stretching out his hand. “Hi, Tony. I’m Steve.”

 

 

 

 

 

/

Tony entered the shop a little cautiously, not really knowing what to expect. The guy, Steve, from the night before must have lived near to  _Sarah’s,_ but it was still a long shot to think he’d be there or they’d know him.

As Tony walked further into the store, he found his head whipping from side to side. The place was gorgeous; just really, truly stunning. It was like an Aladdin’s cave of art and books, shelves piled high and interspersed with beautiful acrylic landscapes.

Tony had never gotten on with books, always preferring to be hands-on in the lab or on a computer, but even  _he_ knew this place was something special. There were piles of books on the floor where the shelves were bursting and far too full, but it didn’t look crowded. Huge armchairs just fitted in perfectly, looking welcoming and comfortable instead of sticking out awkwardly. There looked to be a book for just about every genre ever thought of, one book for any subject anybody could ever need.  

The art work too. Tony thought he could have spent days looking at all of the framed pictures; beaches and sunsets, skylines of New York and California. It was all such an experience, so much to see and so much to explore.

Tony eventually made his way over to the counter and cleared his throat awkwardly, getting the attention of the man standing there pricing books.

“Hi,” Tony said, a little awkwardly. “I was hoping you could help me?”

“Sure,” the man said as he lifted his gaze. “Oh, that’s a big one you’ve got there.”

Tony lifted his hand to his cheek and winced when he touched the bruise around his eye. It had darkened overnight into something very impressive. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I have some cream if you’d like some,” the man said as he focused on the bruising. “My brother used to need it almost every day. It works wonders.” He cracked a smile, “buy a book and I’ll throw it in for free.”

“Damn,” Tony breathed, “is everyone around here nice? Because that’s why I’m here, actually. I’m sure that my bruises would have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for this amazing man who came to my rescue last night.

“I know it’s a total long shot, but I got mugged last night and I accidentally rang the wrong number when I was looking for my friend. This guy answered and he actually came and got me, if you can believe it, giving me money for a cab and keeping me company until they came.

“He said he lived near here, and I know I must sound crazy, but he said he knew the place. He might be a regular here?”

Tony didn’t notice the way that the man in front of him went completely rigid, his hands stilling on the books in front of him as he narrowed his eyes at Tony.

“He’s tall and I think blond? I couldn’t really see him all that well in the dark, but he gave me his sweater because it was so damn cold. It’s from–”

 

 

/

Steve pushed the door open from the back office with his shoulder, his hands full of yet another pile of books. In his head he was going over what shelves he needed to restock and what he needed to reorder. There were a bunch of specials for Mrs. Anders that he’d promised her he’d get and Mr. Roberto had asked for some pretty obscure music books. Steve really wasn’t sure where he was going to find those, but as he rounded the corner to the counter, his mind froze and he lost all train of thought.

Because there was Tony. Tony from last night. Standing at his counter. The man with the wrong number right there in his shop.

Steve hadn’t expected to ever see him again; they hadn’t exchanged numbers or even second names and Tony lived in the city anyway, nowhere near _Sarah’s_.

But wow. Tony was looking even more beautiful than he had done last night. His face held a couple of vicious-looking bruises, but his eyes were just as bright and his smile just as cheeky. Steve couldn’t help his own smile from forming, but then he caught sight of Bucky’s posture and his heart sank.

Bucky was totally rigid, anger literally radiating from him. Steve didn’t need to see his brother’s face to know what it looked like. Bucky’s jaw would be set, his eyes flashing darkly and his eyebrows knotted together.

“This man’s name wouldn’t happen to be Steve, would it?”

Steve watched as Tony nodded slowly to Bucky’s question, seemingly cottoning on to the rage that Bucky was feeling given the dark tone to his voice. Whoops. He probably had about 5 seconds to prepare himself before…

Okay, make that 2.

Bucky balled his hands into fists and practically screamed Steve’s name. Steve winced as Tony jumped half a mile in the air and he prepared himself to face the music.

He had thought he could have gotten away with this one, that he would never have had to explain himself to Bucky, but Steve couldn’t be too mad about the change of events. Getting to see Tony again and drink in the sight of him in the clear light of day was enough to deal with an angry Bucky.

Oh, wow. Make that a _very_ angry Bucky.

Steve cleared his throat and plastered on a smile when faced with the full force of Bucky’s venomous glare.

“Hi, Tony,” Steve said, turning his gaze and feeling Bucky directed his angriest glare at the side of his head instead. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I had to repay you,” Tony explained, his mouth curling into a smile despite his wary glance at Bucky, “I didn’t know you worked here though, so that’s a happy coincidence.”

“Hm,” Bucky said pointedly before Steve could reply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Repay you for what, Stevie?”

Steve swallowed and turned to Bucky, doing his damned hardest to not wince under his brother’s blatant disapproval. “Just cab fare.”

“Really?” Bucky leant back against the counter and fixed Steve with another stare, eyebrows lifted high. “So the story that Tony was telling me about ringing a stranger at 4am who came and took him off the street, cleaned his wounds, made him a coffee and  _then_ called him a cab wasn’t you?”

Steve grimaced. Dammit. He was done for now; definitely no way out. “Aw, come on, Buck. What was I gonna do? I couldn’t just leave him out there!”

Bucky glared even harder and reached out to smack Steve across the back of his head. He grabbed the pile of books from the counter and turned to leave, but twisted back to Tony just before he went. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, a small smile making its way onto his still-angry face, “I’m real glad you’re alright. It’s just that this punk has absolutely no self-preservation whatsoever and you wouldn’t believe what he’s put us through in the past. You fucking idiot.”

“Hey!” Steve rubbed the back of his head and flipped Bucky off as he walked away, huffing a laugh when Bucky returned it without turning around. He wasn’t that bad.

He pouted for another moment before he turned back to Tony, moving around the counter until he was stood next to the other man.

“You don’t have to repay me, though,” Steve said, “I don’t need it. I’m just glad that you made it home safely.”

“I wanted to come back,” Tony said, his gaze dropping to Steve’s lips before flicking back up to meet his eyes. Steve felt a warmth blossom in his stomach. Man, he’d forgotten what attraction felt like; how good it felt to want someone and be wanted in return. “I really wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to come out, not at all. In fact, I sort of agree with your brother that you are an idiot.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he felt his mouth lift up in a smile anyway. “There was just something about your voice,” he admitted. “I couldn’t hang up.”

Tony smiled, his cheeks staining a delicious shade of pink. “Well, I for one am grateful that you have zero sense of preservation. But anyway,” he continued, his smile turning a little more mischievous and his voice lighter, “I never got your number.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t recommend this by the way. Don’t be like Steve, you might find that the results are not as fun. Please don’t be like Steve. Be safe.
> 
>  
> 
> [I have a tumblr](http://s-horne.tumblr.com/)


End file.
